Chapter Text
“Hey Alastor, did you shower?”
The ‘Oh Deer’ mug stopped halfway up to his lips. Then continued its ascent as the Radio Demon considered his breakfast mate. Charlie Morningstar was all innocence and earnestness, watching for his answer over her plate of biscuits and gravy. (His making of course.) If it was anyone other than Charlie who asked, he would have eviscerated them on the spot for such disrespect. Nonetheless...
Alastor set the coffee mug down on the breakfast table with a sharp ‘clack’. “What an impertinent question, my dear,” he smiled with saccharin venom. “Didn’t your father ever teach you any manners?” His hand shot up in a mock gasp. “Oh dear, I forgot! You are rather disadvantaged in that department.”
It really was too bad that Lucifer hadn’t joined them in the somewhat empty kitchen yet this morning. It would have been fun to perk up his morning with a little spice. For her part, Charlie merely frowned at the dig, even as an embarrassed flush came to her cheeks. “Sorry, sorry!” she said, as ever too quick to apologize. Then she continued in clumsy fashion that reminded the Radio Demon very much of a certain devil, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just... I mean, you look really nice today. And you don’t... I mean, you smell nice too. It’s different. Than usual.”
If Alastor didn’t know any better, he would have called that a rather adroit backhanded compliment. Charlie being Charlie though, he took it at face value. “Hmm...” he hummed considering, not quite charmed enough to preen underneath the attention. With careless ease, he commanded a shadow to pour some more coffee into his mug before he answered. Did he do anything different with his morning ablutions? Certainly not. It took him decades to perfect his carefully crafted image, right down to his bouquet of rank decay unique to a corpse decomposing in the hot sticky bayou. Why would he ruin that with soap and water?
Before he had a chance to fully formulate a witty retort, the other morning person (Morningstar, ha) flounced into the empty kitchen. “Good morning, sweetie~!” Lucifer beamed at his daughter, who mirrored his expression perfectly. Planting a quick kiss to the top of her head, the devil immediately went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He was dressed casually this morning, in white sneakers, white bermuda shorts, and a yellow duck hoodie. It made him look juvenile. Too innocent for words.
Alastor smirked behind his cup. Of course, it was his fault that Lucifer didn’t have anything more appropriate to wear this morning. He caught the small devil’s gaze, as though the short king read his mind, and smiled mischievously at him. Lucifer merely glared at him in kind, but turned his attention to the stove instead. “What the- what the heck is this lumpy white stuff?” he asked, gesturing to the pot of gravy to accompany the fluffy white biscuits.
His daughter immediately bounced up from her half-finished meal, coming to his aid as she was wont to do. “Oh, Dad! You haven’t had this before, have you?” she spoke animatedly, with a small smattering of pride to be showing her father something new. “Alastor made it! See, what you do is-”
As soon as both the Morningstars had their attention turned to the stove, Alastor subtly leaned his nose into his shoulder and took a quick whiff. Telling himself he wasn’t worried, he was just checking. What assaulted his nose, however, was not the comforting and familiar aroma of death and home. Instead, he stank of downy feathers and apple blossoms with just a hint of sulfur.
Lucifer.
His nose wrinkled in disgust as his mind ran wild with how this could be. True, he did spend quite a bit of time in the king’s suite last night, but that surely should not have permeated into his clothing, his skin. ...Though he did also visit the night before. And the night before that.
He was going to have to rectify this situation immediately.
The door to the kitchen swung open again and a much less perky angel shuffled into the room. Hair disheveled, yawning widely, Vaggie muttered a half-hearted “morning” and winced as she was greeted loudly by the two beams of sunlight by the stove. All smiles, Charlie planted loving hands on her partner’s shoulders and gave her a warm kiss. While her father smiled shyly, even as he tried to look at anything but the two of them.
Deciding this was all a little too domestic for his tastes, Alastor slid into his shadows and departed from the scene. He recorporated into his room, setting aside his radio cane before he began to strip out of his clothes. Burying his face into the fabric, he quickly discerned that was not the culprit. Then he brought his inner wrist up to his nose and took another whiff. That offensive scent lingered.
Disgusting.
Well. Now he knew that he was going to have de-scent himself every evening he left the king’s rooms. He should thank Charlie for pointing it out. It wouldn’t do for some upstart demons to comment on how sweet and fluffy he smelled while he was in the middle of vivisecting their souls from their bodies. Resolved and resigned, Alastor stripped himself bare and strode across the soft purple grasses to wade into the dank waters of his homey bayou.
~o~
“Hey Smiles, you’re practically glowing! Are ya getting some?”
Oh what fresh hell was this?
His neck cracked as he turned around to gaze at the offender. Angel Dust. Of course. Why should he expect anyone else to make such a lewd comment? The rest of his body followed soon after as he spun on his heel to regard the pornstar lounging on his usual perch at the bar. Next to him, Husk went completely still, rag mid-polishing the only clean glass at the bar.
At least he had the temerity to look afraid for Angel’s safety.
Alastor’s smile widened, almost manic, green stitching threatening to come undone. He strode up to the bar, getting into the fluffy demon’s personal space. “My good man,” he said silkily, the static of his voice almost deafening the words, “you should know it’s not polite to comment on someone else’s private affairs.”
Angel was either drunk, high, or suicidal, because he only leered wider. Sprawled over the bar counter, he took a luxuriant sip of his drink, before replying, “Well, I’m not hearing ya deny it, toots. And it’s not like it’s a bad thing! If gettin’ laid is exactly what the doctor ordered, then I say take your medicine!” Then he cackled madly at his own joke, while Husk hurriedly snatched his drink away. “Hey! I was drinkin’ that!”
Husk ignored him. All his attention focused on his keeper. “Boss, don’t hurt him. I’m getting him water right now!”
Alastor. slowly. counted. down. from. ten.
No. He was not going to lose his composure over this. Not over a guest. Charlie’s surrogate family at this point.
Even if getting two unwanted compliments on his appearance in as many weeks inspired such violent urges in him.
Taking in a long breath, he gave the pair what could only be called an indulgent smile - from someone who could easily claw their hearts from their throats to feast on the still beating organ. “See that you do,” he chirped cheerfully and turned to continue his walk to- Where was he going? Ah yes, the heavy book in his hand reminded him. The library.
Though... He paused midstep. Then turned slowly around again to regard the spider demon. That one was unusually observant. He should assess his intelligence. “Out of curiosity, what on earth gave you the impression that I was engaging in...” he shuddered, “affairs of the boudoir?”
“What, I’m not blind,” Angel replied defensively. Indeed, for he had eight eyes. Annoying. “I hear ya skulking about at night, ya know.” Another thing to rectify, Alastor noted to himself. “Besides, like, you’re glowing. Like, all healthy like.”
Diction clearly wasn’t the boy’s strong suit, but the observation still made the Radio Demon pause. “Hmm~” he gave a considering hum, his narrowed eyes raking over the spider demon. Angel only glared back in defiance. No, he clearly thought he was in the right. “Well, dear boy, I can assure you that you are stupendously wrong,” Alastor spoke with absolute confidence, giving a performative twirl of his radio cane. “And I would advise that you don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
With that, Alastor turned on his heel once again and strode purposefully towards the new library on the ground floor of the refurbished hotel. It was one of the nicer rooms in the building, two stories tall with enormous windows that gave an excellent view of the red hellscape of Pentagram City from atop their little hill. Shelves of books lined the walls, a brass spiraling staircase taking you up to a second level of books that overlooked the comfortable reading area in the center of the room. It was likely that Lucifer paid this room special attention when recreating the hotel, given his own predilections to avoid newfangled technology. There really was nothing like reading a well worn book with soft jazz playing in the background and a glass of rye at your elbow.
Aiming to spend his evening doing just that, Alastor did pause by one of the overly ornate gold framed mirrors that decorated the room. It was placed just so to capture the picturesque scene from the tall windows, casting more light into the room. Perhaps it was because of that that his skin did look slightly... different in this light. Eyes narrowed, he leaned into the mirror, claws gently indenting the flesh of his cheek as he took in his appearance. He supposed in this light, he might look a bit warmer. His skintone wasn’t quite as gray, instead shifting ever so slightly towards the more caramel coloring he had when he was... human.
That... was definitely odd. Almost unsettling even. Alastor leaned back from the mirror. Well, it didn’t look bad on him at all. Moreover, he was being well fed these days. Plus he had been forced to bathe every night thanks to that blasted pervasive smell. Perhaps this was what healthy looked like. For him. In fact, he might even go so far as to say he didn’t mind it. It reminded him of Mother.
With a careless shrug, Alastor turned and settled into his favorite reading chair, resolved to put the issue from his mind.
~o~
“What the- Alastor, did you brush your teeth?”
Of all the things he expected Vox to say, that was absolutely not one of them. The Radio Demon fought the urge to slap a hand over his own mouth. A poor choice given he was in the middle of reaping Vox’s small armada of drones. The sky was thick with spiraling tentacles and flying drones, the middle of the industrial street empty at this point save for the metal carcass of Voxtech. It was so dissatisfying. Not a drop of blood to slake his sanguine lust. The only thing worth hitting was Vox, hiding away in his helicopter up in the sky, his image projected onto a billboard that observed their scuffle.
Alastor nearly chalked it up to the television demon trying to distract him, were it not for the fact that the other demon’s square face screwed up in confusion and betrayal and naked jealousy. Another reason why he would never consider partnering with the demon. He was so deeply insecure and narcissistic that everything Alastor did had to revolve around their supposed relationship. Like brushing his teeth. Apparently.
Unfortunately, it distracted him anyway. He ran his tongue over his jagged teeth to get a feel of them, trying to disguise it as licking his lips in battlelust. They felt too smooth, slick, and fresh.
Disturbed, Alastor gave up all pretense of giving a damn about their little spat. Slipping into shadow, he ignored Vox’s indignant howls of ‘coward!’ as he headed straight through the sound waves and to the safety of his Radio Tower attached to the hotel. His heart hammered as he turned corporeal in his chair, immediately looking at himself in the reflective glass windows to take in his appearance.
A moment later, the chair was left spinning as the Radio Demon dashed to find a more reliable mirror.
Later that evening, Alastor once again found himself in the King of Hell’s suite. As he had for months now. Ever since they got into a midnight tussle in the kitchen. Knives were involved. Blood drawn. The rest was history.
His clawed hands clenched into his thighs, refusing to give away the trembling of his nerves. And his cravings. And now something else.
With a closed mouthed smile, Alastor stood just inside the closed door, watching as white cloth slid tantalizingly over bare porcelain skin as Lucifer undressed himself. Set against the backdrop of the long windows of his tower overlooking the hellscape below, he looked the very picture of sweet temptation. The Radio Demon’s mouth watered, already imagining sinking his sharp teeth into that lily white flesh and feeding off the molten gold ichor within.
His teeth.
His stomach roiled with a different emotion. A tiny trickle of icy dread. His tongue ran over his teeth again, too fresh and foreign. He completely missed that the king had draped himself so invitingly over his settee until he heard a soft ‘ahem’ to garner his attention. Looking up, he nearly flushed when he saw Lucifer’s raised questioning eyebrow. “It’s not like you to not rip my throat out the second you get a chance,” he joked. Alastor was in no mood for it.
“Sire,” the Radio Demon spoke, swallowing thickly. Even now the promise of that delicious ichor was wreaking havoc on his self-control. However, he had to persevere. “Your... blood. ...Your blood wouldn’t cause anything strange to happen, would it?”
The eyebrow cocked up even higher. “Like what?” Lucifer asked, genuinely confused.
“Like...” Hells it sounded too stupid to speak aloud. “...Enhanced personal hygiene?”
It came out as a hideously meek question. Punctuated by a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter from the King of Hell. “What?!” Lucifer cried out, unable to stop himself from doubling over in startled giggles. “Uh- Haha- oh my Dad. Where the Hell would you get that idea? I mean, I know it’s like crack to you, but- what?!”
Absolute mortification burned through Alastor’s whole body, red hot tingles from the tips of his ears all the way down each vertebrae of his spine. “Forget it,” he spat, body turned and ready to storm out of the king’s chambers.
“Woah, woah, hey~” Lucifer still giggled, though he was rapidly gaining control over his faculties. Smiling wickedly, he slid off of the settee and took hold of the shaft of Alastor’s cane to tug him closer. Always careful not to touch. “I’m sorry,” he said easily, though he clearly delighted in the taller demon’s embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have laughed. But no. I can’t think of any reason my blood would do anything weird like that. Then again...” The king cocked his head, like a coy little bird. “No one’s really drunk my blood for this long either. Or like, ever.”
“Right...” Alastor spoke softly, the pooling dread in his belly growing worse.
Yet, damn him, having the devil this close, this time of night, he could feel his hunger peaking in an almost pavlovian response. Even with a silent alarm blaring inside of him, he itched to sink his claws into that white skin and sate his needs.
Somehow sensing the change, Lucifer’s gaze turned sly. “Well?” he asked, rolling his neck out beatifically. Just for him. “Are you going to get on with it?”
Not needing to be told twice, Alastor lunged forward. The king keened as claws rent into his skin, drawing golden blood, eyes turning hazy with pain as he seemed to lose himself. Alastor never questioned what Lucifer got out of these little sessions of theirs. Not as long as he kept his hands to himself.
His jaw unhinged, spine and antlers cracking with power as he sank his pearly white teeth into Lucifer’s equally white flesh.